Despite the festivities surrounding him, Jaime was extremely bored.

This was hardly a new phenomenon. Grand feasts and celebrations never amused him much. Born and bred in House Lannister, he was aware of all the political machinations that went on during these gatherings. He hated it all, not least because he himself was awful at politics, always relying on his sister for that. Cersei, he thought, heart pounding. One more festival, and I get to see her again. And Tommen, too. Lately, they had disagreed and argued on certain topics, but that wasn't really new. And it didn't change the fact that he loved her.

Brightening up, he forced himself to engage in small talk. Luckily, it was only Bronn beside him, so he didn't have to do much. Unlike Jaime Lannister, Bronn rather enjoyed the festivities, freely laughing and flirting with women – and more. Lucky him, thought Jaime, he doesn't have to socialize carefully with stuffy noblemen.

He felt a nudge at his side and turned to Bronn, who was gesturing at a servant girl staring at the two of them and complaining about Jaime attracting all the women. Jaime gazed at the servant girl. She was fairly pretty, indeed, but she did not come close to Cersei's beauty. Moreover, the look she was giving them did not seem flirtatious, though Jaime had a hard time figuring out what it was. It was somewhat unsettling.

-o-o-o-

Hidden amongst the festivities, Arya Stark was enjoying herself immensely.

Yes, she had to employ all of her willpower to keep herself from running into the hall and tearing everyone in there to shreds, but she concentrated on the plan. She looked down at the meat she was currently chopping. Fingers. Did they belong Lothar or Black Walder? Arya had already chopped up so much, she had already lost track.

Spilling the chopped up flesh into a pot to boil and grabbing a basket of bread to pass around, she left the kitchen to meander around the hall, hoping to catch some gossip about her family – or her other foes. But as soon as she stepped into the hall, her breath caught itself in her throat. She had seen these soldiers, and most importantly, she knew what house their golden armor belonged to.

House Lannister.

Oh, this was good. Arya suppressed a smile, merely allowing her eyes to twinkle in delight. Two enemy houses here at once! She already had a plot of vengeance ready for one of them, but she would have to spend tonight concocting a scheme for the demise of the other.

Speaking of her plot of vengeance, where was the man himself, Walder Frey? I hope he's devouring the pies, she thought, scanning the room for him. She had trouble finding him, but very soon, she had cast her eyes on a different recognizable individual.

Jaime Lannister. Kingslayer. Arya would recognize that lion's face anywhere, lover and father of Cersei and Joffrey – respectively – both on her kill list. But he had changed, she noticed, since she had last seen him in King's landing, all those years ago. He looked older, more weathered. Gone was the haughty sneer and the arrogantly raised eyebrows, to be replaced with the humble solemn stare of a man whose heart and pride had suffered. Gone were his rich, wavy golden locks, as he had adopted a shorter haircut, his hair turning darker and sandier than in the past. And yet, Arya noticed that although the years had surely taken their toll on his appearance, his features – instead of growing harsher and rougher – had actually softened. She wondered how much of this was due to his facial expression rather than the features themselves.

He's changed, the girl acknowledged. Seems more…mellow, she decided was the best word to describe it. After all, she remembered, he had lost his sword hand and two of his children, though at least one of them was a monster, she mused. Arya had mixed feelings about Joffrey's death – glad that he could no longer terrorize her sister, disappointed that she hadn't been the one to end him – but she had always tried to keep her thoughts to the former.

She noticed a soldier walk up to the Kingslayer and nudge him comfortably, pointing his finger in her direction. Shit, she cursed, I've been staring for too long.

Best get back to those Frey pies.